


Pala-Picnic

by AceSparkleGirl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Arguing, Canon Compliant, Caught, Domestic, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Picnics, Pining Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith/Lance (Voltron), Post-Canon, Sloppy Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 18:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16602935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceSparkleGirl/pseuds/AceSparkleGirl
Summary: Keith wakes up to the feeling of a foot between his ribs.“We have plans today, remember?”





	Pala-Picnic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FroggieDog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FroggieDog/gifts).



> This is for Courny because she made me keep writing it. Ily Counter.
> 
> Also: [Tumblr Link!](http://tearezicryrope.tumblr.com/post/180038232142/pala-picnic)

Keith wakes up to the feeling of a foot between his ribs. 

 

“Wake up.”

 

“Go away,” is his prompt response, mumbled into his pillow as he makes an attempt to spit his own hair out of his mouth. 

 

“Not until you get up,” the voice quips back, and there's a foot being shoved into his side again. It's cold— which is a stark comparison in the warmth from his comforter. His comforter, which he's just realizing is not on top of him. A breath catches in his nose as he breathes in, and it's almost a snort as he begrudgingly sits up, letting his pillow fall from his hold as he sits back on his bed in defeat.

 

Without the pillow there to block his vision, the fact that the sun is shining in his room is immediately brought to Keith's attention, and his nose scrunches up as he looks over to his visitor. Big round glasses and crossed arms beneath a particularly impatient demeanor proves it to be Pidge, whose pout flickers into a smile when he makes eye contact with her. 

 

“Oh, see? I knew you could do it.”

 

“I just sat up to find my blanket,” Keith mumbles in response, squinting past rays of sunlight as he tries to focus on Pidge's face. “...Did I leave my door unlocked?” 

 

“Picking it was easy,” is what he hears back, and Keith groans, a hand raising to shield his eyes from the sun. “You have hair stuck to your cheek, you might wanna fix that.” Almost to punctuate what she's saying, Keith watches Pidge as she points to him, and then pretends to push hair off of her own face with the same finger. Sure enough, as Keith reaches up to push it away, he finds a good chunk of hair plastered to his face, presumably by drool. His nose wrinkles up, hand dropping into his lap. Ew. 

 

“Pidge, what are you doing in here, anyway?” Keith stretches out, squeezing his eyes shut as he straightens out his back, listening as it cracks. Nice. “It can't be any later than ten, let me—”

 

“It's one in the afternoon,” Pidge shoots back, watching him. “No one was making the move to come get you. Someone had to. Lance has been making jokes about how to wake you up for the last hour, no one could get him to shut up.” She pauses, hand going instinctively to her chin as she thinks, and then her nail is in her mouth, and she's chewing at it. Keith can't help but consider it comforting that she still has the same habits. “I think that's it— oh! Hunk got really excited about some hot chocolate recipe, he's making that, I think.” Her hand drops from her mouth, and Keith follows it down as she wipes it against her pant leg. “So put some clothes on and haul ass to the kitchen.”

 

“I'm wearing clothes.”

 

“Actual clothes,” Pidge corrects him, idly going to tug a drawer of his dresser open before she falls back to the doorway, turning to head out. “We have plans today, remember?” 

 

_ That's right. _ As Pidge leaves the room and the door clicks shut behind her, Keith groans and finally pulls himself out of bed, crossing the floor to the dresser.  _ We have plans today _ . He reaches into the open drawer to fumble around for a clean shirt before he closes it with his hip and leans up to pull out a pair of pants. They'd all agreed to go out today; Shiro had insisted it was something about ‘getting out to get some fresh air’, or something along those lines, and the not-so-unanimous decision was to spend the day at the park. There were a number of places that Keith would rather be, of course, but according to both Shiro and his mother, this “wouldn't be the worst thing in the world”, and “it could really do some good, Keith.” 

 

The cold feeling of hardwood beneath his toes absolutely would like to day otherwise, but at least he'd be with good company. As he finds himself perching at the edge of his bed in order to pull on his socks, however, there's an entirely new thought in his mind; he has no idea how to have a properly relaxing day. He's almost positive that none of them do. 

 

This is going to be a challenge. 

 

Upon finding himself suited enough to leave his bedroom, Keith double checks himself in the mirror. He runs a brush through his hair enough to pull any knots out, and when he lowers his brush, his fingers hover briefly over the mark on his cheek. Something in his head keeps making him think that it's supposed to hurt, for some reason, and the fact that it doesn't feels like it's some sort of trick. As far as he's concerned, the fact that there's no proof that anything that happened was real is the worst part. With that in mind, though, he sighs and opens the door, stepping out of his room. 

 

The first thing to be noticed is that Lance is standing right there. 

 

“Oh. Hey.” 

 

“Hey! Hey?” Lance tries to respond, visibly jumping the moment that Keith speaks to him. He raises an eyebrow, snorting. 

 

“Why the hell do you sound so alarmed to see me? It's my room.”

 

“What?” Lance blinks before he laughs, eyes flicking to Keith's door before they catch back on him. “Oh, wow, would you look at that, you're right. My bad.” Keith watches him turn and go to walk away before he just laughs, grinning lazily at him.

 

“You could've knocked if you wanted to come in, McClain.”

 

“Bold of you to assume I  _ wanted to _ , Kogane,” Lance shoots back almost instantly, and Keith laughs out. 

 

“Is this what we're doing now?” 

 

“Oh— shut up.” He watches an uneven blush spread over Lance's face before a smile spreads across his lips, and it's an expression that's become far too familiar to handle. It's one of the only constants in all of the chaos lately, and it's comforting to know that despite all of the changes, Lance never separated from being himself.  _ Thank God.  _ It's only evident that Keith has been staring for too long when Lance is waving a hand in front of his face. “...You, like, present?” 

 

Keith rolls his eyes, reaching up to lower Lance's hand from his immediate vision. “ _ Yes _ , I'm ‘like, present’. Just a little half asleep is all.” He raises a hand up to scrub at his face before he pushes his hair back, offering a lop-sided smile to his friend, who just blinks back at him. Awesome. Going great today. “...But, hey. Pidge said Hunk’s making cocoa? Let's go see what that's about.” He gets a nod in response, and there's that dumb smile again, before Lance is turning on his heel and rushing off to the kitchen. 

 

The last thing he notices before regrouping with everyone else is that the shirt Lance has got on looks familiar, and too loose to be one of his own. 

 

—

 

Instead of taking a car, as was expected, Shiro wound up convincing the lot of them to walk to the park. ‘It's not far,’ he'd argued, holding the keys far above his head. Which isn't hard for him to do, Keith noted, given the fact of what the fucked up alien tech allowed him to do with his new arm. Shiro was just standing there, smug look on his tired face as he dangled the ring of keys three feet above himself, and anyone else. Keith heard his mother laugh from across the room, and upon offering a distressed glance over, he was met with her smiling at him, Kosmo's head in her lap as she scratched between his ears. 

 

“He's right you know. Walking isn't going to kill any of you.” 

 

He caved shortly after, shoulders falling from their defensive hunch before he turned to his team and just made a vague motion to head out. They followed. Keith swore he heard Shiro highfive his mother, but it isn't like he has eyes on the back of his head to have seen it, let alone confirm the suspicion. 

 

The entire walk to the park felt longer than it was. With Hunk listing off what all was in the picnic basket being held rather precariously on his arm, and Lance trying to complain that the walk was farther than he remembered, Keith found Pidge and Shiro to be the only tolerable members of the party, as  _ they _ continued on relatively silently, only bothering to make comments about surrounding trees, or squirrels, or how the breeze felt nice today. Or maybe Keith was just still too tired to tolerate anything else. 

 

Keith noted Shiro's smile to be particularly genuine, and judging by the way that Pidge was playfully jutting her elbow into Lance's ribs every few seconds that he'd complain, it was clear that the general consensus of today was that things were good. 

 

If it could go that well all day, it would be a miracle. 

 

\--

 

“Krolia was right,” Shiro muses as the group finally enters the park.

 

“About what, exactly?” Keith mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he looks around. It would seem that Hunk's already chosen a place for their picnic, because he's already enlisted Pidge's help in spreading out their cliche red and white checkered picnic blanket. It felt like they were trying to please some sort of ‘normal’ quota, and Keith wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that. He just watches, though, shoving his hands into his pockets as he thinks. 

 

“This being good for us,” is Shiro's response after a moment, and Keith just snorts, looking over at him. 

 

*You don't  _ have _ to agree with my mom,” he murmurs back, watching as Hunk struggles straighten out the blanket. Lance is joining them now, pulling the picnic basket from Hunk's arm to place it on one of the corners as a weight. He hears Lance say something about how they literally saved the world,  _ how can't they flatten out a blanket _ . He sees Pidge stick her tongue out at him, and then his attention turns back to Shiro. “...She already likes you and thinks you're the responsible one, you don't have to agree with her  _ all _ the time.” 

 

“I'm not just agreeing with her, Keith, she's right,” he muses, laughing and turning to him. The smile on his face is so calm, it almost throws Keith off. He's so accustomed to grim expressions and thick air— the concept of things being  _ alright _ is almost jarring. “You need to learn how to relax. There's nothing on the line. You're home now.”

 

Well. 

 

Keith rolls his eyes and scoffs, his arms finding themselves across his chest again. It's a defense mechanism, and he knows it. “I know how to relax, Shiro, I just don't think there's a reason to right now,” he mumbles, glancing away from him. “You never know when things can just—”

 

Shiro cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder, and Keith looks up. “You've got plenty of reason to relax. You deserve it. We all do.” Before he has a chance to respond, he's being nudged forward to his friends. “Have some fun.” 

 

“What are you—”

 

“I will, too, don't worry.” Shiro flashes a grin, nudging him again with his stupid robot arm. Keith sticks his tongue out, and Shiro just laughs, dropping his hand from his shoulder. “Hunk made sandwiches.”

 

At the mention of his name, Keith notices Hunk look up from the blanket struggle and grin. “Yeah! Hey— Keith, you wanna come over and help us out? We could use our head,” he calls, snickering to himself as he waves him over. Keith rolls his eyes. 

 

“We aren't piloting right now, Hunk,” he muses, going to adjust his jacket before he heads forward, taking a corner of the blanket. Lance happens to be at his side, and Keith hears him snort. 

 

“No, maybe not, but aren't we all kind of always piloting now?”

 

“What— Lance, what are you even talking about?” Pidge shoots back, rolling her eyes before they all lower their respective corners to the ground. 

 

“Like. Metaphorically.”

 

“Oh, fuck off.” Keith grins, laughing a little. He watches Lance look up from the blanket, and he makes eye contact with Keith before he looks pointedly away. Huh. Keith makes a face, but he turns away regardless, going to pull his shoes off to put them on his corner of the blanket. Something's gotta give it weight to stay down— and it's warm enough that his feet aren't going to freeze, so this works. “We aren't ‘metaphorically’ doing anything.”

 

“Yeah. The only thing we're doing is struggling at laying a blanket down,” Pidge chides, huffing as she sets her backpack down on her corner, carefully. “It's like one of those lightbulb jokes.” Keith looks over in time to see the grin split across her face. “How many Paladins does it take to lay out a picnic blanket?” 

 

“Four,” Hunk responds, adjusting the blanket before he lowers himself to sit down on it as well. “And one to cheer them on.” His hand raises to Shiro, who just laughs before he moves to join them, crossing his legs as he sits back down.

 

“It was a team-building activity. Just seeing if you all still work well together,” he teases.

 

“We work together fine, Shiro, you're the one who needs to get his head in the game,” Keith jests, and Shiro laughs, waving him off.

 

“I'd say just about the same thing for you, Kogane.” The voice is Lance's, and Keith looks to him again, still standing with his arms crossed. 

 

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

 

“Whatever you want it to mean,” Lance shoots back, eyebrows raising as he sits down. Keith just stares at him, watching as he adjusts his sleeves— rolls them up, because they're too long for his arms. Which is weird, because that's not usually the case. He doesn't budge aside from that, though, just leaning back, legs straight in front of him. 

 

“Will you two quit acting like an old married couple for two seconds?” Pidge scolds, sitting down with her legs crossed in order for her laptop to have a proper place to sit as she pulls it out. Keith just blanches. “I'm hungry. Hunk, I say break out that smorgasbord.”

 

“Mmh—” Hunk looks up from the now open basket, a sandwich already in his hand with a bite out of it. As he swallows, he nods and pushes the basket forward into the center. “Already ahead of you, Pidge. Go for it.” 

 

There's mention of ‘Team Punk’, accompanied by a rather excited cheer, but Keith's too busy staring Lance down to register anything else. Granted, Lance seems to be trying to do anything but meet the gaze, and it's becoming increasingly more obvious to him as Keith watches him reaches forward for a sandwich. It's almost too much, and Keith can't help but scoff before he just turns and walks off. So much for a miracle day. 

 

Upon not hearing his name called after him, Keith takes the chance to take a sharp turn and make a move to lean up against a tree. Stupid Lance. Stupid Lance and his stupid voice and his stupid smirk and his stupid face and his stupid hair. Keith puffs out an irritated breath of air, face heating up as he kicks at a patch of grass by his foot. Lance has no right to get stuck in his head like that. It's not right. He's not right.  _ This isn't right.  _ Keith groans, closing his eyes as he leans into the tree further, scrubbing at his face with one hand, the other still against his chest. He's just about ready to march right on back over there and give Lance a piece of his mind when—

 

A branch snaps. 

 

Keith straightens up, whipping around. His hands fumble to reach for his bayard, which— okay, no dice, that's not there. It's an old habit now, he supposes. But as he pulls his hand from his waistband and he actually looks up from his position hiding behind the tree, he's face to face with none other than his very own sharpshooter. 

 

Er.  _ Their _ . Very own sharpshooter. 

 

Lance offers a grin, and it's ridiculous, the way it makes Keith's chest ache. He has the mind to just shove him, pull some sort of childish behavior to make him go away, but none of that is him, and he knows it. So instead, he just stares at him.

 

“What's your  _ problem,  _ Lance.” 

 

Lance blinks, looking at him before he rolls his eyes and takes a step back. “That's one hell of a way to greet a concerned friend. Dick.” Keith watches Lance turn, pressing his back against the tree beside him. Keith, who immediately straightens up and pulls away from the trunk, standing in front of him.

 

“Are you kidding me? You're the one who—”

 

“ _ You're  _ the one who stormed off,” Lance retorts quickly, jabbing a finger towards him as he lets a foot come up against the trunk. _ If he's trying to look cool, it's not working.  _ “You know, I thought maybe your whole ‘running away to avoid talking’ thing was over by now, but if you're gonna be like _ that _ —”

 

“Don't even  _ start _ .” Keith's eyes narrow, and the step that he takes forward is both unintended, and evidently enough to intimidate Lance to try and move back more against the tree.  _ Whoops _ . “I had my reasons for everything I did up there, Lance, and you know it. You can't get on me for that now.”

 

“Can't I?” Lance stares over at him, shoulders almost seeming to be raised in defense. That's certainly a new one. “Because you seem to love dwelling on shit that's happened. You looked like you were about to try and attack me.”

 

“You snuck  _ up _ on me, asshole, you should know better than to do that.” Keith feels his face getting hot again, and this time he's more than aware that it's embarrassment. “Why the hell did you come over here if you're just gonna bitch at me, Lance? You realize that isn't helping anyone?” Lance's finger is still up, almost accusatory in nature, and Keith reaches up to grab his wrist to lower it. The look of shock that crosses Lance's face is almost amusing, but he tries to cover it up quickly with a scoff, eyebrows furrowing. 

 

“I didn't come over to bitch at you,” he snaps. “I told you, I came over to check on you,” he tries to free his wrist, but Keith isn't budging, “and you decided to be a dick. That's  _ not _ my fault.”

 

“It's not my fault that you're being so unbearable lately!” Keith shoots back, expression twisting with irritation. His chest feels tight, and everything feels like a lot. He's so  _ frustrated _ , and he doesn't know why a stupid joke got him so mad, but he is, and this is Lance's fault. 

 

“Oh, so it's my fault now?” Lance tries to take a step forward, and Keith lets him, only to step forward again. They're practically nose to nose, what with Lance leaning in to look at him properly. “It's my fault that you can't take a semblance of a joke? And that you can't deal with the fact that no one here is trying to chase you away? It's my fault that you did this  _ yourself? _ ”

 

“Oh my  _ God _ , shut up,” Keith spits, holding his wrist tighter. The response he gets isn't what he's expecting. 

 

“ _ Make me _ .” 

 

Keith's expression drops, looking up to Lance in shock before he drops his wrist in favor of grabbing the collar of his shirt and leaning up and forward. It's impulse. It's complete impulse as he presses his lips against Lance, but it's happening, and Lance isn't stopping him.  _ Lance is kissing _ back. Keith's eyebrows furrow, fingers curling tightly in his shirt collar as he drags him down further. There's a noise somewhere between them, and Keith isn't sure who made it, but there's certainly a gasp being drawn from his throat as he feels his back suddenly get pressed against something hard. His eyes shoot open as he breaks the kiss, and he feels hands against his chest before he glances up, gaze met with Lance's. 

 

Well. That happened. 

 

He just stares, and Lance stares back, and things feel frozen for a moment. 

 

“That happened,” Lance whispers, efficiently breaking the silence, and apparently a thousand blood vessels in his face on top of it all, because Keith's never seen him look so red. Keith's fingers curl tighter in Lance's shirt, and it's only at that point that he realizes why it looks and  _ feels  _ so god damn familiar. It's his. That's absolutely his shirt. 

 

Keith watches him for another long moment before he scoffs, mumbling a soft ‘get out of my head’ as he drags him down into another kiss. The feeling of Lance's fingers curling against his chest are enough to let him know that it was the right thing to do, obviously. He tilts his head into it this time, as if he's testing the waters, and he's absolutely pleased as punch when Lance mirrors the action. Keith smirks, until he's being pressed further against the trunk, and his stomach flips. Holy christ. He moves one hand from his collar to lock it around Lance's neck, as if he's trying to drag him closer, and what he gets in response is a fucking knee between his legs, and suddenly Keith's mind is racing, because  _ where the fuck did any of this come from _ . 

 

He pulls away from the kiss again, breathing labored. There's a lot he wants to say, but the first thing that leaves his mouth is, “You're wearing my shirt.” 

 

Lance isn't expecting that, clearly, because Keith watches about four emotions cross his face before he rolls his eyes, and those hands just keep against his chest. “...It's comfortable,” he manages between uneven breaths. 

 

“It's too big on you,” Keith mumbles. “You're a shrimp.” 

 

“First of all: You're shorter than me,” Lance shoots back, and Keith registers the fact that his knee is still against the trunk, too. This sure is a position to be in. “You're just freakishly jacked.”

 

“Something's telling me you aren't actually mad about that at all,” is Keith's response, and he's not actually surprised when Lance is the one to lean down and kiss him again. In fact, at this point, it's welcome, and Keith feels his heart skip a beat. It's messier this time, as if Lance was trying to cut him off, and the idea in itself is almost endearing if it weren't for the fact that he effectively bumped their noses together on the way in, or the fact that he nearly missed his mouth. Turns out lover-boy Lance isn't as good of a kisser as everyone might have expected. Or. Well. No one else probably wondered that in the first place.  _ Way to throw yourself under the bus, pal.  _

 

Keith can't help but snicker as he returns the kiss, and he's pretty sure that he hears a ‘shut up’. He just hums, pulling Lance closer before he tangles his fingers in his hair. It's still stupid, but now suspicions are being confirmed that it  _ is _ soft, and Keith's positive that all of that self-care or whatever really pays off. Lance's teeth drag against his lip, and Keith hums again, trying to bite at Lance's in response. It works, and Lance's knee lifts again as he makes a noise that just makes Keith smile against his lips. He can't help but wonder if he's just been waiting for this, especially as one of Lance's hands falls from his chest in order to settle at Keith's waist, and Keith's eyes open, flickering across Lance's face. He looks so focused, eyebrows furrowed and eyes closed. Keith's pretty sure he's heard that you're not supposed to have your eyes open when you're kissing someone, but how can he be blamed if Lance is gonna go and look this pretty when he's supposed to not be seeing him? He closes them again anyway, though, his free hand finally coming to rest against Lance's hip, which feels odd until Lance's fingers curl against his waist. He could get used to this. 

 

But he doesn't get the chance. 

 

It's not even seconds later that he's hearing a voice calling out their names, and then a crunch of leaves. “We all saw you guys disappear what are you—”

 

Shit. 

 

Keith's eyes open again, flickering over Lance's shoulder to see Pidge standing there, sandwich in her hand, mouth absolutely agape. He pulls back a little, and Lance looks at him. 

 

“What are you—”

 

“ _ Pidge _ .” 

 

“No, I'm— what? Who cares about—”

 

“ _ No _ —” Keith tries, patting his shoulder in attempt to get him to turn.

 

“Oh. My god.” 

 

Lance turns. Pidge just stands there, watching, before she raises her sandwich and takes a bite. The amount of time that she takes to chew it is painfully slow, and as she swallows, she wipes her mouth with her wrist, and an all-too familiar grin spreads across her face. 

 

“You know. I  _ should _ be surprised, but I'm not.”

 

“Hold on—  _ Pidge _ .” 

 

“I'm telling Shiro.”

 

With that, she's turning and bolting back from where she came, leaving Keith and Lance to stare after her in shock. 

 

“This is your fault,” Keith quips after a second, grabbing Lance's wrist before he just starts running. Lance stumbles behind him, scoffing.

 

“Are you—  _ kidding  _ me? You started that, you're the one who—” 

 

“Shhh _ hhhut  _ up, Lance, just keep  _ running _ .” 

 

For once, Lance listens. But it's to no avail in the end, because as they get back, Pidge is standing in front of Shiro, hands out as she speaks. Keith drops Lance's wrist and watches as she turns to them and smiles. 

 

“Oh, hey guys, I was just—”

 

“We  _ weren't  _ making out!” Lance shouts, and everything goes still. Keith shoots him a long, pointed look, and Lance grins like he's saved the world again. All eyes are on them, and Keith looks forward to Shiro, who just blinks, and out of the corner of Keith's eyes, he sees Pidge smirk, reaching up to adjust her glasses. 

 

Shiro clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck before he shrugs. “She said you were going to the restrooms,” he murmurs, eyes flickering between Keith and Lance as a smile stretches across his lips. He hears Pidge snicker, and Keith just raises a hand to swat at Lance's arm. 

 

“Ow! What was that—” Keith just shoots him a look, and Lance shuts up again before he shoves his hands in his pockets. “...Right. Yeah.” Lance snorts, going to take a seat back on the picnic blanket, and before he goes to join him, Keith sees Hunk slip Pidge a twenty.

 

She's  _ so _ dead. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really just am out here writing another Voltron fic huh :/ And it really just is another Klance fic huh :/ I really just am out here existing huh :/ [Here's a tumblr link to my tumblr. Me, Haley.](http://tearezicryrope.tumblr.com)
> 
> Also just a fun note that I thought would be amusing to share; I did find a word to delete just so that this fic could end on a positive number of words.


End file.
